


Doves and Ravens Fly the Same

by valamerys



Category: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: (just a little), BDSM, Corporal Punishment, Corset, Dubious Consent, Hair Pulling, M/M, Riding Crops, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-26
Updated: 2017-05-26
Packaged: 2018-11-05 04:54:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 913
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11006418
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/valamerys/pseuds/valamerys
Summary: Lucien's been making a whore of himself in the illyrian war camps for long enough that Azriel can't ignore it anymore.





	Doves and Ravens Fly the Same

**Author's Note:**

> idk what to tell you guys. this is dark and filthy. have at it.

Lucien barely manages to brace himself at the sound of the crop whistling through the air. It lands with a harsh _smack_ on his ass, another stripe of stinging pain amongst what must be a mess of red welts. Lucien gives a hoarse cry he can’t help, not after dozens of them, his throat raw. He pulls uselessly against the restraints as he writhes in some kind of mindless attempt to get more, or less, to soothe the fire-hot rawness that consumes his backside and trails down his thighs or to get some kind of friction against his sore, swollen cock, with its sad little dribbles of precum slicking down the side. He’s been hard for what, an hour now? And no one’s touched it and he _hurts_. Sweat has long since stuck his shirt to his skin, collects inside the corset laced tight around his torso—the thing drives the Illyrians crazy, fuck if Lucien knows why, but it gets them to shove each other around and snarl and fight for the honor of being the first cock in his ass any given night, so Lucien keeps wearing it.

“How long do I have to do this before you stop enjoying it, slut?” Az’s dark voice has gone ragged with effort and his own arousal, Lucien can smell it. The tent is thick with both their scents, sex and sweat and lust that even the cool tang of Az’s shadows can’t hope to cut.

Lucien answered him snappishly at first, and it earned him harder lashes, but he’s too far gone for that now, and nothing comes out but a plea melted into a whimper as every one of his muscles tremble.

“Or maybe you don’t.” scarred fingers find Lucien’s face from behind and he flinches— but Az is just pulling some of the hair from Lucien’s sweat-soaked face, deceptively gentle. “If I hit you long enough, would you come from just that? Without anyone touching you, without anyone inside you? Just from the pain?” He croons, hand winding into Lucien’s hair, disheveled as it is, the ribbon that holds it from his face long wilted. “You fucking whore.”

And he pulls, hard, yanking Lucien’s head back and forcing his trembling body into an arch as pain blazes from Lucien’s scalp down his spine and he chokes on a thick, loud sob.

The sound of it draws jeers and rustling from outside the tent. Lucien doesn’t know how many are gathered out there, listening to this. There’s no privacy in a war camp, not for sex, and not for corporal punishment for whoring. He thinks he can hear the slick sounds of men touching each other, sucking each other off to this.

“They like that,” Az growls. “Do you hear them, Lucien? Getting off to me beating their little cockslut?”

His ass throbs, his cock throbs, and every one of his muscles protest being strung up for so long like this as tears slip from his eyes. “I _said_ ,” Azriel snarls, renewing his grip on Lucien’s hair harshly, making him whimper— “Do you hear them?”

“Yes,” Lucien slurs, and the word is just a garbled syllable in his mouth. “Yes.” 

This seems to placate Az somewhat, and he releases him. Lucien goes slack against the restraints, chest heaving as he tries to get his breath, tries to think around the thick fog of pain and need—

 _Smack_. Lucien looses a low yell as yet another lash of pain licks across his ass, his senses too dulled to anticipate it, and it’s fucking blinding now, on top of layers and layers of old hits and wrecked flesh. Another follows it, and another, harder, and by the next time Azriel pauses Lucien is weeping though a jaw clenched against the hurt, against the scream that rails in this throat.

“I see why they like you so much,” Azriel says, panting, more of a rough stab at speech than actual words. If Lucien wasn’t falling apart at the seams he might take pleasure in the stoic shadowsinger’s composure being shredded so thoroughly. “You’re so fucking pretty when you cry.”

Lucien doesn’t hear him move closer, but he certainly feels the press of a single finger trail up the crack of his ass to the puckered hole there, still irritated from the last cock he’d been riding when Az found him. Lucien can’t help but push against it pathetically, desperate, so desperate for something inside him, something that might make him come, relive any part of this agonizing arousal.

“They want to hear you scream,” Az says, a dark, almost incoherent thing. His other hand angles that damned crop so the tip drags across the line of welts and Lucien gives a strangled cry. “So you’re going to scream for them, like a good little whore.”

Suddenly the crop is gone, and Lucien hears the fastenings of Azriel’s pants coming undone. Lucien has no thoughts, no feelings left, only sensation, only pain and want and his dripping, needy cock and an ass that feels unfilled. If he could say words he might beg, but he won’t have to; there’s the sound of a bottle opening.

“I’ll _make_ you fucking scream,” Az growls, and Lucien feels one hand go to his hip and Az’s lubed cock nudging his entrance.

With every thrust, the welts on Lucien’s ass slam into Azriel’s hips, and sure enough, the entire camp can hear the screaming.

 

This fic is also on [tumblr](https://valamerys.tumblr.com/post/161083969520/azlucien-just-some-fucked-up-porn-seriously)!


End file.
